


A Collection

by neverfinishe



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Car Accidents, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Ridiculous, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverfinishe/pseuds/neverfinishe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is likely going to turn into a collection of hurt/comfort, fluff, or general tooth rotting related prompts from Tumblr involving Harry and Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Human Furnace

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPT: [whispers] sick!Harry and Peter cuddles. Harry needs a personal space heater because he's cold often and Peter volunteers. (Bonus: Peter trying, and failing, to hide how worried he is.)

Peter looks at his phone again, but there's still no text. On any other day, their positions would be reversed. Harry would be looking at his phone, while Peter was the one failing to respond.

Harry's only ten minutes late, but he always responds to texts. Peter's tried calling him twice, but there's still no response. He decides to give Harry five more minutes.

Exactly sixty-three seconds later, Peter’s on his way to Harry’s. It doesn't take him long to get there, and he climbs up to Harry's window with ease. He peaks inside, and the first sight he's greeted with is a curled up lump on the couch.

He slips in through the window quietly and moves over to the couch. He crouches in front of Harry. "Hey," he says gently, trying not to startle Harry awake.

Harry cracks an eyelid open and looks up at him. He closes his eye again and groans softly. "What time is it?"

"Three-ten," Peter answers. He notices the way Harry's shaking. He's got on a hoodie and sweatpants. His feet are covered by shoes, but it's clearly not enough to keep him warm.

Harry nods before it clicks in his brain. He curses under his breath and reaches past Peter for his phone. "We were supposed to have lunch together," he says as he glances through the texts Peter sent him, "Sorry." 

He looks up at Peter again with exhaustion clear in the bright blue eyes. The bags under his eyes and the redness of them makes the blue stand out even more, but it only reminds Peter how fragile Harry can be.

"Don't worry about it. How many times have I bailed on you?" Peter asks with a little smile. He's had to text to cancel more times than he can count.

"I was planning on going... I just, snoozed the alarm," as if on cue, the alarm on his phone goes off. He turns it off this time.

Peter chuckles softly. "How many times did you snooze it, exactly?"

"Lost count," Harry says sheepishly. He's just so tired.

Peter nods. It's not exactly a good way to get rest. It explains why he woke Harry so easily. Harry's alarm had been going off every ten minutes. "Come on, let's get you into an actual bed," he says, trying not to worry so much when Harry curls even tighter in an attempt to warm himself up.

Harry has these days where he's just flat out miserable, and Peter never really knows what to do other than stay with him and try to distract him or do whatever he can to make him as comfortable as possible. He hates it. It's the worst feeling in the world to have the abilities he does that enable him to help and save other people and not be able to do much of anything when Harry's really suffering.

Harry buries his face and lets out a soft groan as protest to moving.

"I will carry you, Har," Peter warns.

"Try it, Parker."

Peter gets up and walks off. Harry looks up curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Hold on," Peter says. He comes back a moment later with an oversized comforter and wraps it around Harry easily. He smiles when Harry immediately clings to it, but he has to ignore the way it rips a hole in his chest at seeing the sight.

"Thank you," Harry closes his eyes again. "You don't have to stay." He doesn't tell Peter that he wants him to stay, or that he's still cold. The comforter helps, but it's not enough.

"Oh don't pull that on me," Peter says with a roll of his eyes. He's playing it cool, but he hates all of this. He pulls Harry forward a little, startling him a bit.

"I swear, Pete, if you put me over your shoulder-"

Peter presses a small kiss to Harry's lips to shut him up. "I'm not," he says when he pulls away. He easily climbs over Harry and settles in behind him. He settles under the comforter, even though it makes him a little warmer than he'd like. He wraps his arms around Harry and holds him close to his chest. "Get some sleep, okay?"

“Mm...” Harry hums in the way that usually tells Peter there’s an argument coming. Harry twists around in his grip until he’s facing Peter. He looks up at Peter, but his eyelids are already drooping. “Okay,” he finally says, already half way to sleep.

Peter closes his own eyes and tries to think more on the body held against his. He tries not to think about the pain Harry deals with or how cold he is. He’s not shaking so much anymore. That seems to be improving, at least.

“And Pete?”

The voice startles him out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“Stop worrying so much,” Harry says with a little smile. He buries his face against Peter’s neck, and Peter has to bite his lip to keep from making any noise. Harry’s got hands and feet like ice. That’s something he knows well, but he doesn’t expect the freezing nose to press against his skin.

Peter doesn’t bother vocalizing that he will stop worrying once Harry’s better. He just mumbles an ‘okay’ and closes his eyes with his arms still tight around Harry.


	2. All Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: harry's in the hospital after a bad accident and peter is a protective boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for ridiculous.

Peter gets the text from Harry's assistant an hour after it happens. It's short and to the point, and there's so little detail that Peter can't help filling in the blanks with a few dozen horrible outcomes.

He sneaks into Harry's room. He's not related, biologically or legally, and he doubts trying to explain that Harry doesn't have family will get him anywhere. Even if he is the closest thing.

Harry's sleeping on the bed in the middle of the room. He looks small in it. Paler than usual, and it scares Peter.

Harry's right eye is black with a little bit of purple mixed around the edges. Blood is caked onto parts, and it's clear that Harry wouldn't be able to open his eye if he were awake.

The blanket they have over him covers whatever other damage Harry's suffered. Peter's too afraid to look. The wires and tubes are off-putting enough. He has one of those nasal tubes, which is hopefully a good thing. Peter's pretty sure it means Harry's breathing on his own with a little bit of difficulty.

He moves around the bed to sit beside him. He reaches for Harry's hand, but he stops short when he sees that it's in a cast.

He stays there, quiet, and he waits.

When Harry finally opens his eyes, Peter's dozed off. He has one arm tucked under his head, which is rested against the bed.

"Pete?" He croaks out.

Everything hurts. His vision is blurry in the one eye he can open. He sees nothing out of the other eye. His skull is pounding; he just wants it all to stop. He's a good two months past all of the sickness, and he's been enjoying feeling human again. This feels a lot like having his body rot away. The pain all over, the blurry vision, it feels just like he had before.

For a moment, he panics.

Peter's stirred awake by the change in pace of the machine that's monitoring Harry's heart. It takes his mind another moment to catch up with the situation. He can see Harry trying to get up. He puts a hand against one of Harry's shoulders and applies just enough pressure to keep him from moving too much.

"Harry? Hey, Har," he says softly and reaches his other hand to gently brush a thumb over Harry's uninjured cheek. "It's okay, Har."

The fear in Harry's eyes when he turns to look at Peter nearly breaks his heart.

"I've got you," Peter says. Promises. He should have been there, protecting Harry. He was supposed to have been with him, but he had gotten caught up with Spider-Man business.

Harry nods and swallows. He tries to calm down. The beeping slows, showing his heart rate returning to a more reasonable pace.

"’appened?" He asks, unable to get the full question out.

"You were in a car accident," Peter tells him. He smooths some of Harry's hair back from his face. Someone's going to lose their job when Harry realizes he's now rocking an interesting almost-mohawk.

Harry takes the information in, and he feels relief. A car accident. He can deal with a car accident. That means this is temporary. He's okay. He's not sick again.

He closes his good eye and some of the tension leaves his muscles, which helps ease some of the pain. Peter reaches for the red button he knows will release more pain medication into Harry's IV.

"I'm sorry," Peter says. His voice is soft. He returns his hand to Harry's hair and runs his fingers through the soft locks. He can't help thinking of what could have happened. What if Harry had died? It's not like that's not entirely possible.

Two nurses come through before Harry can say anything in response. They're moving to check over the machines and Harry. It takes every ounce of Peter to not snap at them and demand they leave. He does stand and watch everything they do with his arms crossed over his chest.

They ask the usual questions, or what Peter assumes is usual. Harry does his best to answer, and they leave with a promise to get the doctor in as soon as possible.

Harry doesn't bother hiding the small laugh that comes out once the nurses leave. It turns into a coughing fit, and Peter's quick to get him a cup of water. He helps Harry sit up enough to swallow some and puts the cup down when Harry's done.

Harry's still smiling. He looks a little dopey, and Peter hopes that it's partly because of the pain killers. He doesn't want Harry in any more pain than necessary.

"What's so funny?"

"You," Harry answers. His voice is raw from the coughing. "Standing menacingly."

"I wasn't standing menacingly. I was making sure they were doing their jobs... right," Peter says as he settles back in his seat with his arms crossed and what was definitely not a pout settled on his lips.

"You were," Harry argues. "Ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous, Osborn. Wait until you see your hair." Which is a bit of a low blow, but Harry's going to have to deal with it sooner or later.

Harry groans. He tries to reach a hand up, but it takes too much effort. "'m not leaving the apartment for a month."

"Is that how long you predict for it to grow back, or is that how long it's going to take for your ego to heal?" Peter asks with a teasing smile.

It's a little calming to be able to tease Harry and have him tease back. Harry's here. He's alive, and he's okay. Or he will be.

"Ha. Ha." Harry huffs. He closes his good eye again. "How bad?"

"You busted up the side of your face pretty good. Hit your head while you were at it. Needed stitches," which is why so much of the side of Harry's head is shaved. "Broken arm... I don't know what else. Probably some fractured ribs." With the pain he saw on Harry's face during the coughing, he doesn't doubt that at all.

"Expert there, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah, but I heal in a couple of days, tops," Peter answers.

Harry moves his good hand across his stomach to try to get Peter to take it. He wants the contact. It's calming. He feels a little better now. His head feels lighter, but he still wants the contact. He likes touching Peter and being touched by him.

Peter takes his hand and holds it gently. 

"You should try to get some sleep," he says, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Only if you promise not to bite the doctor," Harry answers.

"What about growling?"

"Fine."


	3. Rolly Carts Save the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I request a chapter where Peter is sick or hurts himself a bit seriously (I.e. Broken leg), forcing him to stay at home. Pretty much role reversal, with Harry worried and Peter feeling guilty.

It takes an exceptional amount of force for Peter to break a bone. He bruises them every other day (on a good week), but he hasn’t managed to break any bones in awhile. Maybe that’s why he finds himself trying to pull his weight up with webs while attempting to balance without any weight on his injured leg.

Every movement is jarring and sends sharp pains through his whole body. He pauses for a moment, considers his options. The easiest way to get back would be in a cab. He can’t swing back. He wouldn’t be able to get high enough, and someone’s bound to notice Spider-Man heading inside of the building that Harry Osborn is known to live in.

The first thing he does is work his costume until his leg is partly exposed. He uses the webbing to try to create something thick enough to serve as an added support. It’s going to be a bitch to cut off later, but it’s what he has for the time being.

He fixes his costume and pulls himself up, using the webs. He swings back to the alley his bag is hidden away in. He’s low to the ground, which attracts more attention than he wants, but he somehow manages to pull off an escape and get down the right alley.

He changes as quickly as he can, biting his lip hard to keep from making any noise.

Looking down the alley reminds him of another problem. He can no longer depend on the webs or his upper body to get around. He has to hobble down the alley, using the wall as support, until he gets to the street.

The only break he gets is that a cab pulls up almost immediately. He could kiss the driver. Instead, he gives her the address and closes his eyes. When the cab pulls to a stop outside of the apartments, he groans at the realization that he has nothing to hold onto now.

He pays the driver and gets out slowly with his bag already in place. It takes some work, but he manages to get to the door. He leans against it for a moment, startling slightly when one of the doormen opens it for him to ask Peter if he’s in need of assistance. Evidently, the guy recognizes him, which Peter’s never been more grateful for. It makes sense, he’s in and out of here all the time.

“Got one of those rolly carts?” Peter asks after a moment.

The guy gives him a look, but he waves someone over and instructs them to retrieve a ‘luggage trolley’. Evidently that’s the name for those things. He’s always thought they would be fun to ride down the halls of expensive hotels in, but this is bound to be far more embarrassing.

The second guy comes back with the stupid trolley, and Peter settles himself on it. It makes getting to the elevator and getting to Harry’s door much easier. He thanks the guy and offers the last of his cash. He’s pretty sure carting around humans isn’t part of his job description.

He finds his key and slips inside. He locks the door and hobbles over to the couch. Finally, he gets to sink down and rest somewhere where he won’t be expected to move from.

“Peter?”

Damn.

“In the living room,” Peter calls back as he arranges his legs onto the couch. He leans forward to get his shoes off and starts rolling his jeans up.

“Hey,” Harry says as he enters the room. He’s half focused on his tablet. “I have to go to a meeting tomorrow. They tried to-” he stops when he looks at Peter. The webbing makes him raise an eyebrow. It covers most of Peter’s leg from his knee to his ankle, and it’s thick.

“I uh... emergency first aid,” Peter offers.

“Emergency- you better not be bleeding.”

“No bleeding,” Peter tries pulling on the webs and instantly regrets it. He lets out a strangled sound and falls back against the arm of the couch.

Harry moves over to him quickly, ditching his tablet on the coffee table. “What did you do to it?”

“Broke it,” Peter says once he recovers enough.

“And you thought this would be a suitable cast?” Harry asks, evaluating the situation for a moment. He gets up and heads for the kitchen. There’s not a chance he’s going to get all of that gunk off without cutting it off.

“It was all I had at the time.” And he’s somewhat proud of his quick thinking, thank you.

“You could have called me,” Harry points out, and, yeah, maybe that didn’t even cross Peter’s mind. In his defense, he really hates worrying Harry.

Harry pushes the coffee table closer, moves around it, and sits. He looks again, determining the best starting point. He decides there probably isn’t one and sets to work. “Guess you aren’t as cool as a spider after all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter asks, trying his hardest to stay still and focus on Harry’s voice instead of the pain that pulses through him every time Harry moves the slightest bit.

“Spiders can break injured legs off and grow new ones,” Harry answers, “Though I am really glad you don’t molt. That would be a deal breaker.”

“Sometimes I feel like you actually spend all day on Wikipedia and not actually working when you carry that tablet around,” Peter says. Harry knows the weirdest things, but Peter isn’t one to talk.

“You’re convinced I spend more time in the elevators at work too.”

“You do, Harry. I run into you in an elevator four times out of ten, and the only reason that number isn’t higher is because of the amount of elevators,” Peter argues lightly. The whole elevator thing started a long time ago, as a joke, except there’s some reality to it.

Harry just hums in response. He’s finally able to start peeling layers back after a good five minutes of work. He gasps softly once Peter’s leg is fully exposed.

Peter tries to push himself up to get a look. It hadn’t been that bad. He sees black and blue and purple, and his leg is swollen pretty badly. All he can manage is a soft curse as he falls back against the arm for a second time in utter defeat.

Today sucks.

“I can’t just put a band-aid on this one, Pete,” Harry says with a frown.

“Just wrap it up, wrap it tight,” Peter grinds out. He’s in pain, and he doesn’t want to move. “It’ll heal on it’s own.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, no, but I’ve had my organs roasted, and they went back to normal. I think my body can figure out a broken leg,” Peter shrugs.

Harry does as he’s told. He’s seen some pretty bad injuries, but he worries about this not healing right. He won’t push it. Peter hasn’t lied to him yet about his ability to heal, no matter how grim it looks to Harry.

He wraps the leg tight, forcing himself to ignore the sounds that slip past Peter’s lips, despite Peter’s best attempts to keep quiet. He can even hear Peter clawing at the couch. He’s worried, and he wants him to go to the doctor. Maybe it can wait just one day.

Peter’s muscles ease some when Harry announces he’s done. He tries to relax against the couch. “Thanks,” he says softly, feeling a little guilty for asking Harry to take care of his mess. He knows it bothers Harry, and he can understand that. It used to scare the hell out of him to watch Harry struggle with his sickness. The difference is, he knows he will be fine. He didn’t always know Harry would be.

“Hungry?” Harry asks, trying to think of things that will help get Peter’s mind off of his leg.

“I... no,” Peter says after a moment of hesitation. He’s not sure he can stomach anything right now. “Maybe we can watch a movie or something?”

“There’s that new zombie movie,” Harry says as he retrieves a glass of water. He passes it to Peter and settles on the ground, close to Peter’s head.

“I can move,” Peter offers.

“I’m fine.” Harry really doesn’t mind the floor. It’s soft anyways, and he’s fallen asleep on the floor more than once in his life. “Zombies?”

“Always.” Peter smiles widely while Harry looks for the movie.


End file.
